Page 31 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

I don’t want another reminder of how she felt in my arms or the way her body fit against mine. The past refuses to stay where it belongs, and being surrounded by Fallon’s scent only makes it harder to forget, which is why I need to be as far away from her as possible.

A flicker of guilt twists in my chest for not thanking her before I left. It’s her job to cook for me, but I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I should show her more appreciation. Unable to shake my guilty conscience, I decide to check in.

Harrison: What did you put in the quiche this morning?

Fallon: Why? Are you feeling okay?

Harrison: Are you worried about me?

Fallon: If you think you’re having a reaction to gluten, then yes.

Fallon: Did you eat anything on the plane or at the office that could have been contaminated?

Harrison: I’m fine.

Fallon: You’re not having an autoimmune response?

Harrison. No. I was just curious because whatever you put in the quiche tasted amazing.

Fallon: Oh.

Her concern for me means more than it should. I shouldn’t care about what she thinks, period.

Yet, unfortunately, I do.

Harrison: You’re really talented.

Fallon: Thank you.

Fallon: In case you’re still wondering, caramelized onions and sharp cheddar cheese are my secret ingredients.

Harrison: Now you’ve got me craving it again.

Fallon: There are leftovers in the fridge.

Harrison: So you’re saying if I want more, I just have to compliment you first? Noted.

Fallon: See? Youcanbe taught. There might be hope for you yet.

Dammit. Why is it so easy to talk to Fallon through text? It would be easier if it wasn’t. She has infiltrated every part of my life, and in moments like this, I forget the hurt she caused me—and that she hasn’t acknowledged it once since coming back into my life. It’s a reminder of the resentment I should feel because of it.

Ready for a distraction, I join the meeting I have scheduled with my brothers.

Dylan’s already waiting.

“How was Chicago?” he asks.

I lean back in my office chair, looking into my laptop’s camera. “Uneventful.”

“How do you do it? I’m wiped after one business trip, but you’ve done seven this past month alone,” Dylan says.

“It has to be done.” I shrug. “Unlike you, I don’t have to wrangle an energetic kid and four dogs when I get home. You’ve got your hands full,” I add with a rueful smile.

Lately, my travel schedule has been brutal with recent acquisitions and the increasing number of offices we’ve added. My dad taught me the importance of regular in-person meetings with employees and partners to keep performance levels high. Although, back when he was CEO, we had a fraction of the staff we do now.

Dylan was wise to hire an additional senior analyst, giving him the freedom to be with Marlow and Lola more. Unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury. Running the companymeans I’m the person everyone depends on for quick responses and urgent solutions, which means I have to be available at a moment’s notice.

Just then, Cash’s face pops up on the screen. “Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late. I was wrapping up a call with the Townstead team,” he says.

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